Love's Frustrations
by shopgirl152
Summary: Not Just a Summer Fling Universe. It's not easy having a pregnant wife. But when you're touring around in a van and your wife's suffering from pregnancy hormones, love can be a little...well, frustrating. one-shot.


**A/N 1: **Alright, let's kick off this New Year right! It's the next installment in the Summer Still Rocks Series (set in the Not Just a Summer Fling Universe). So this story occurs two months after Making Memories. There's actually supposed to be another story between Making Memories and this one, but...heh, I haven't written it yet. I'll get there eventually.  
**Song Used:** Let Me Love it Out of You by Tim McGraw

* * *

"I can't believe you Phineas Flynn!" Isabella clenched her hands into fists at her sides. "It's our one month wedding anniversary and you forgot!"

"Izzy, it's just one month."

Her eyes widened. "It is _not_ just one month! We've been married a month, but we've been together for seven!"

"Technically, it's only four."

"Four?"

"Well yeah. I mean, we weren't together for three months. No offense Isabella, but…I don't really count those months."

"You-you—" her eyes filled with tears. "You don't count those months? Bu-but wh-why—"

"Izzy, I didn't know where you were or what you were doing. You never answered my calls remember? The only indication I had of anything was when you showed up four months later at Florabama and told me you were pregnant."

"You said we'd get through this together, that you loved me since the night you first saw me."

"I did. And I still do." He walked towards her, taking her hand in his. "We're a family Izzy. I promised you I'd stay. I love you."

"No you don't."

He chuckled. "Isabella, I _married_ you."

"That's not an excuse! You should have remembered our anniversary!"

The red head sighed. "Why does this mean so much to you anyway?"

"Why does it-why does it mean so much to me?!" Isabella spluttered. "It means so much to me because you're my forever love! It means so much to me because I am carrying your child! It means so much to me because we are now married and you should remember our one month wedding anniversary and how long we've been together! Those three months count!"

"Three months of heartbreak count toward a relationship?" Phineas clamped a hand over his mouth. "Izzy, I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

She glared at him. "Yes, three months of heartbreak do count Phin. It means we still cared about each other during that time. I just can't believe you would have the nerve to say it."

"Izzy…" he touched her arm, only to have her swat it away.

"Don't touch me."

"Isabella…" he paused, singing. "I know you're mad, and I'm to blame for that—"

"Don't sing to me. Singing to me doesn't make everything better."

"Yes, I'm sorry again—"

"Ugh. I can't believe you. I try to have a serious conversation with you about something that's important to me and you don't listen!" Tears filled her eyes. Without looking up, she turned around and ran into the back bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"For the things I did…" Phineas sighed, cautiously advancing toward the door. He gently knocked on it, only for a sad, angry voice to respond.

"Go away Phin. I don't want to talk to you."

"Izzy, come on. It was just—" he stopped himself, swallowing the comment.

"Yo Dinnerbell! Ferb and I are goin out ta eat. You and Girlie wanna come?" Buford entered the van, Ferb behind him.

Phineas ignored them, crossing over to the kitchen nook. "The words I said, if I could I'd take it back." He reached into a cupboard, pulling down two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"What's with the singin?" Buford paused. "And how come I didn't know about the wine? We coulda been drinkin that stuff already."

"Private stash." The red head answered absently, uncorking the wine and pouring two glasses. Without so much as a backwards glance at the other two, he grabbed both glasses and leaned against the bedroom door, letting himself in.

"What's with him?" The drummer looked at Ferb and the bassist shrugged. "Aw come on! He's your brother!" Ferb shrugged again, putting a finger to his lips in a 'shh' gesture.

From inside the bedroom, they could hear more singing.

_Why waste the wine in this glass?  
__the love in this room?  
__The making up, girl we're so good at that…__  
_

"Ugh. Mushy stuff." Buford groaned. "Ya know, if they're gonna do that, they need to shut the door—"

"I said I don't want to talk to you!" The band members blinked at the sudden outburst, watching the door. The sound of something being thrown into a trashcan was heard and Phineas sprinted out of the room. "Leave me alone!" Isabella slammed the door shut.

"Dang Dinnerbell, what'd ya do now?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Ferb smirked.

"Yeah." The red head leaned against the door, breathing hard. "She's mad at me because I forgot our one month wedding anniversary. She's upset that I didn't remember it and apparently, because the three months we spent apart count in how long we've actually been together." He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like it matters."

Ferb rolled his eyes. He calmly walked up to his brother, slapping him upside the head.

"Dude!"

"They might not matter to you, but they matter to her."

"So?"

"You're married now. Pick your battles. Let her have this one."

"No way! I'm not letting her have this one!"

"Suit yourself."

"So what are we doin for dinner? I'm starving!"

Ferb shot his brother one last glare before walking over to the kitchen nook and opening a bottom drawer. He tossed something at the drummer.

"Popcorn? Aw man; we had that last night! I thought we were gonna have an actual meal tonight."

The bassist pointed to the popcorn, then to his brother. He smirked. "Dinner and a show."

Buford returned the smirk. "Yeah, alright." He turned to the lead vocalist. "Bout time someone gave it to ya."

Phineas scowled at him. "I'm glad you guys are enjoying my pain."

"Hey, we're just glad it's you and not us. Seriously, Girlie's mood swings are gettin old. When's the baby due?"

"Two months."

"Ain't soon enough."

"I heard that." The men started, turning around. Isabella glared out at them from a crack in the open bedroom door.

The drummer winced as the door quickly slammed shut. "Whaddya gonna do now Dinnerbell?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Keep singing at the door until she let's me in I guess."

"Oh right. Because _that's_ worked so far." Buford ignored his friend's eye roll, turning to the bassist. "Come on Ferb; let's getta front row seat."

Phineas shot his band mates a glare before returning his attention to the door. "Come on over, sit back down by me, let me have it, take it out on me—"

"Better be careful what you wish for." Buford stuffed a fistful of popcorn in his mouth.

"Don't hold back, take your time, until you forgive me—"

The door opened and Isabella glared out at him. "Forgive you? How can I forgive you? You didn't even count the three months we spent apart!"

"Turn down the lights, lock the door, leave I'm leavin on the floor—"

The young woman shrieked, throwing a pillow at him.

The red head ducked, the pillow sailing over his head, landing with a thump on the floor.

"One for one," Ferb commented.

"For now," Buford added. "It'll get worse before it gets better."

"I know you're angry inside…" Phineas took a step toward the door, leaning against it while running a hand down it. "Let me love it outta you tonight."

The door opened a crack and a soft smile appeared on his face.

_I see that smile  
__you're trying so hard to hide…__  
_

The door went to close, only for the red head to stick his foot out, preventing it from closing all the way. He took a step inside.

_Who you trying to fool?  
__I know your game  
__I know you girl  
__damn you're sexy when you're playing it cool  
__why waste the wine in this glass—__  
_

Buford and Ferb started as the sound of a splash was heard and the red head stepped out of the room, dripping wet.

"Dang Dinnerbell, what'd she do ta ya? Pour a bottle of water over your head?"

"Worse. She poured two glasses of _wine_ over my head." His band mates roared with laughter, collapsing in a heap on the breakfast nook. "Yeah. Hilarious. Could someone pass me a towel? Kinda hard to see here." The drummer composed himself enough to get up and pass his friend a towel. "Thanks."

"May I propose a new plan?" Ferb held up a finger and his brother nodded. "Let her have this one. You're wrong, she's right."

"Yeah Dinnerbell. The rest of the pregnancy will go smoother for all of us if ya just cave."

He clenched the towel with resolve before tossing it to the side. "I don't cave."

Ferb watched his brother walk back towards the door. "Well, he is nothing if not persistent."

"Yeah. Or stupid."

Phineas drummed his fingers on the door in thought.

"Come on Dinnerbell; that's gotta annoy girlie more than the singin."

He ignored the remark, stepping back from the door. "Come on over, sit back down by me, let me have it, take it out on me-"

"You want me to let you have it?" The door opened a crack and the red head went to enter, only for another pillow to come flying out the door, accompanied by a loud shriek.

Prepared this time, Phineas reached up and caught it, placing it on the counter. "Come on Izzy; you can't stay mad at me forever."

"Wanna bet?"

"Well, he's 0 for 2," Ferb commented, reaching over and grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Shall we do a running commentary?"

"Don't...you..._dare_." The red head glared at his brother. "You know, instead of just sitting there, you could help me you know."

"Yes. But this does not involve us."

"Yeah man. It ain't our fault ya ticked her off."

He stared at them a moment before emitting a low growl, dismissing the comment with a hand before taking a step towards the door again. "Don't hold back, take your time, until you forgive me—"

"She's gonna do more than that. Just be thankful she hasn't thrown a lamp at ya."

"Turn down the lights, lock the door, leave I'm leavin on the floor…you know what? This isn't working."

"Well duh. What'd ya think singin was gonna do? Make everything better?"

Phineas ignored the drummer, slumping against the door. "There has to be a better way…"

"May I suggest—" Ferb started.

"_No_."

His brother held up his hands in surrender at the icy tone.

"Maybe if…" the red head's eyes lit up. "That's it!"

Ferb started, watching as his brother slid open the van door, climbing out and going around to the back of the vehicle.

"Aw man. Now what's he doin?"

The bassist shrugged, standing up and wiping popcorn oil off his hands before climbing out of the van, Buford behind him.

They found Phineas pulling one of the lead electric guitars out of the storage compartment in the back, grabbing one of the smaller amps.

"Dinnerbell, what the heck are ya—"

"Look, if you guys would rather stand here and make fun of me, fine. Go ahead and laugh. I'll do this on my own."

"Do what? Dinnerbell! Phineas, get back here!" The drummer groaned, him and Ferb following the red head around to the side of the van.

Phineas stopped underneath one of the windows, setting the amp on the ground and plugging the guitar in before turning it on, making sure the strings were tuned. His fingers flew over the strings, playing a loud guitar solo as he sang. "Let me have it, let me have it. Take your time. Let me lay you down and hold you close and tell you how much I need you. Let me have it."

He stopped as the window slid open and Isabella glared down at him. "Izzy, come on. I'm-I'm sorry. I made a mistake." He set the guitar on the ground, switching off the amp. "You…" he glanced to the side, looking at his band mates. He sighed. "You were right. The three months we weren't together do count; I spent three months calling you and leaving you voicemails everyday. The fact that you even came back at all shows that you still cared about me. And…I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that our one month wedding anniversary wasn't important. It is." He looked up at the window. "Forgive me?"

"I'm still mad at you."

The red head's face fell as the window slid shut. He turned helplessly to his band mates. "What happened? I did the right thing; I acknowledged that I was wrong, but…she's still mad. Now what do I do?"

Ferb gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Can't be helped. She'll come around."

"Yeah Dinnerbell; it's gotta be the hormones talkin."

He sighed. "I guess. I just hope you guys are right."

* * *

_Hours later…_

"Going to bed?"

Phineas looked up from his guitar, glancing at the door. "Can't. I'm locked out." He sighed. "Guess I'm sleeping out here tonight."

"You know where to find me." Ferb gave his brother a sympathetic look before retiring into one of the sleeping compartments.

"Yeah." The red head strummed a lone chord, smirking at the sound of snoring coming from the other sleeping compartment. "At least Buford's asleep. Guess I might as well get comfortable." He set the guitar to the side, grabbing a few sheets and a pillow from a cupboard above him before spreading the sheets on the couch, his ears perking up at the sound of a door opening.

"Phineas?"

He slowly turned around, a soft smile appearing on his face. "Hey Izzy."

"Phineas, I'm…sorry about earlier." She sat down on the couch and sighed. "I didn't mean to get so worked up over our anniversary or the three months we spent apart. I've been thinking about it and…maybe those three months don't count. We weren't together then and—"

"Izzy—"

She held a hand up, stopping him. "No, you were right." She stood up, stretching her back. "We weren't even together when we first met. In some sense, I guess we were, but it wasn't official and then I left and…" she started to cry. "It's all my fault! If I hadn't left, then we'd be together seven months and maybe—maybe you could have found out you were a Father sooner." She sat back down, crying harder. "I'm so sorry Phineas." The cries turned to exasperated groans. "I hate these hormones!"

"It's okay." Phineas sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders, giving her a peck on the cheek. He rubbed a hand down her back. "I've been thinking too and…maybe you were right; maybe we have been together seven months. I did think about you the three months we weren't together. Not a day went by when I wasn't thinking about you."

"But we weren't together!"

"It's like you said; we thought about each other during those three months. I mean, you thought about me right?" She nodded wordlessly. "See?" He kissed her forehead. "It all evens out."

She sniffled, smiling as he reached a thumb up, gently wiping away her tears. "I don't deserve you."

He laughed. "I don't deserve you either." He stared at her a moment. "Are you okay? Are _we_ okay?"

"We're okay."

"Good." The red head leaned against the couch, Isabella moving with him, laying her head on his shoulder.

She sighed. "So who's right? Do we count the three months or not?"

"Why don't we count this one as a draw? There's really no right or wrong answer." He smirked, holding up a finger. "However, we'll definitely count when we got back together." He paused. "And wedding anniversaries."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He kissed her forehead. "Because those are the ones that mean the most." Phineas was silent for a moment. "You know, there's still a little bit of our anniversary left; want to finish the wine? Unless of course, you threw it away."

She mock glared at him. "I'm pregnant. No alcohol remember? That's also why I was mad earlier."

"Wow. I really messed up tonight, didn't I?"

She leaned up, kissing him on the lips. "We both did."

He slowly sat forward, standing up and offering her a hand. "How about grape soda and I give you a massage?"

"Do we have grape soda?"

"I have no idea."

The young woman giggled, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. She unbuttoned the top three buttons of the red head's shirt, gently tracing the tattoo. "I love you Phineas Flynn."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I love you too." He was quiet for a moment. "Maybe this time next year, we'll have it all figured out."

"I sure hope so."

"Hey, we'll be fine." The red head grinned down at her. "Trust me Izzy. It'll all work out." He gently placed a hand on her back, leading her toward the bedroom. "Now come on; I owe you a massage."


End file.
